


A Weekend Off

by 20SomethingSuperHeroes



Series: Bucky in Arizona [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Friendship, Male-Female Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-25 12:28:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4960666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/20SomethingSuperHeroes/pseuds/20SomethingSuperHeroes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a busy few days working for S.H.I.E.L.D., Hillary Tanner comes home to Mesa, Arizona for a brief respite.  She would enjoy it more, perhaps, without the homeless vagrant her family had taken in--a.k.a. Bucky Barnes.  But without realizing it, it is Bucky who makes her stay more memorable.</p><p>Setting: Three months prior to the events of "The Avengers: Age of Ultron"</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Weekend Off

Hillary came home from Saint Louis on Saturday night, her dad picking her up from the airport. When they entered through the garage door, she heard the television on and saw her mother at the dining table with the sewing machine out. Jo got up to greet her daughter.

“What are you working on, Mom?” Hillary asked.

“Oh, I’m fixing some clothes for ‘our dear friend’,” said Jo. “Apparently some shirts I found him last weekend were a little too secondhand.”

He was laying on the couch with his feet propped up and watching a basketball game on television. He glanced over at Hillary briefly.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hey you!” she said, dropping her bags to walk over to him.

He sat up. “‘You’? I’m sorry, I was under the impression that I had been given a name.”

“Well, what do you want me to call you?” she asked him. “Certainly not Jason Retniw?”

“No, no, not that,” he answered her.

“Well, how about Bucky, then?”

“I guess if you want to call me that,” he said. He scratched his neck with his left hand, and Hillary could see the metal on his wrist.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, picking up her bags. She went to deposit them in her bedroom and change into something more comfortable. When she came back, she noticed the  
pile of dirty dishes in the sink. She rolled up the sleeves of the overshirt she was wearing.

“Hey, Bucky, you wanna come help me with the dishes?”

“And why would I do that?” He lifted his head up just enough so that she could see his eyes over the counter from across the living room.

“Because you need something to do.”

He looked at Trey Tanner, who had sat down on the armchair. Trey didn’t need to say anything. He just smiled and nodded his head over his shoulder.

“I guess,” said Bucky, standing up. Hillary delegated Bucky with rinsing the dishes and loading the dishwasher. She hadn’t communicated with him much in the last week. 

“So how was the garage this week?” asked Hillary. 

“Oh, same as always,” said Bucky. “I just stayed in the back most of the time and kept quiet, didn’t come out during the day except to change the water.” He placed some bowls on the top shelf. “Sometimes it was slow and your dad would let me out to show me how to do this and that.”

“Are you learning anything?”

“I might be,” he answered, putting a large plate on the bottom rack. “It might be easier to tell if I could actually practice.”

“Does dad have anything for you to practice on? Old parts? Spare plugs and such?”

“Hm, he might. I’d have to ask, though.” He dropped some silverware into the bin in the dishwasher.

“But what do you think about during the day, though, when you’re by yourself sitting on the couch?” She was washing off a plate coated with leftover spaghetti sauce.

“I...I don’t really try to think of anything.”

“I find it hard to believe that at this point your mind is still empty.”

“Well...I reminisce, a little, about things I’ve done, places I’ve been….just stuff from the past year.”

“Do you think about any people in particular?”

“Well...no...not really anybody...but there is one person I think about sometimes.” He dipped the plate in the rinse water so it was free of suds. 

“Is this the female individual we have discussed?”

“Grace? Yeah.” He put the plate in the dishwasher, avoiding Hillary’s eyes.

“Well, are these happy thoughts or sad thoughts?”

He bit his lip. “Mostly sad ones. I mean, I just really have a hard time thinking about her, because I left her hanging like that. And everyone I’ve talked to says I shouldn’t have  
done that.”

“That’s right,” Hillary nodded, running a scrubber along a strainer. “I mean, you can’t just go around kissing people.”

Bucky laughed quietly. “You’re right, that does sound kind of nasty.”

Hillary laughed as well. “Yeah, but it’s not just that. Love is more than kissing. Have you considered that?”

“I’ve started to consider that. But what is love? I mean, romantic love?”

“Well, first and foremost, it is respect,” said Hillary. “If you really care about her, then show her. Be a friend. Respect her opinions. Try to give her advice when she needs it. Give  
her space when she wants it. Love is also kindness and consideration.” She handed the strainer to Bucky and then started scrubbing a large pot. “You don’t have to wait on your  
significant other hand and foot. But still do nice things for her, things that demonstrate kindness and affection.” Hillary thought hard while she turned the pot over to clean the  
back. “But what sets romantic love apart, I think, is commitment.”

“Commitment?” He put the strainer in the dishwasher.

“Yes, commitment,” said Hillary. “You don’t just do something with her once, you spend time with her. Not just doing things with her, but being with her...a part of her. When  
you’re romantically involved with somebody, you still go on dates every once in a while, but you’re also hanging out all the time, you care so much about the other person that  
every second that you’re not with them is a second wasted. And you know, if you two decide you like each other enough to commit to a long-term relationship, then marry her.” 

“Well, marriage is a tall order for someone like me,” said Bucky, “with no legal identity and a metal arm.” He put some bowls into the dishwasher and slid several pieces of  
silverware in the utensils rack. 

“Is the dishwasher getting full?” asked Hillary.

“Almost,” said Bucky. “I think we have room for a few more cups on the top.”

Hillary put some rinsed cups into the top rack of the dishwasher. “Well, the other option is cohabitating, but that’s basically a relationship for committed people without the legal  
knots.” Hillary got out the dishwasher soap and closed the dishwasher. Bucky started the wash cycle. 

“So how do you know all about love? Have you ever had a boyfriend?”

“No, I haven’t, actually,” she said. “I just...think a lot about what I would like, if I had one.” 

“And that doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that you’ve got three older siblings who are married, two with children?”

She handed him the scrubbed saucepan. “Absolutely not. I’m completely oblivious to the fact that I’m surrounded by people in successful relationships. But every person is different, Bucky. You have to find out what works for you and Grace--if you’re going to go make up with her.”

Bucky sighed as he took the saucepan from Hillary. “I would like to make up with her, if I can. It just seems a little too much to hope for.” He dried the saucepan and placed it on a rack on the counter.

“Dude, if you don’t ask her when you get the chance, she might get taken by somebody else and you’ll wish you’d done something.” Hillary pulled the plug on the sink.

“It’s not just that,” said Bucky, folding his arms and leaning against the sink. “It’s that I’m...well, different. Doesn’t Grace want somebody normal? Doesn’t anybody? And if we’re  
talking a long-term commitment here...I can’t do that.”

“You’ll have to try, Bucky,” said Hillary. “Either it works out or it doesn’t. Just take it one step at a time.”

“But it’s not just me, it’s my baggage. Heaven only knows how long I’m gonna last out there.”

“Last time I checked Hydra wasn’t in a hurry to find you,” said Hillary.

“But what about Captain America? And S.H.I.E.L.D.? And any number of people who are looking for me? Why would I bother trying to live a normal life when everyone else is  
going to stop me?”

“I think Captain Rogers wants you to be happy,” said Hillary.

“Meaning?”

“Able to have as much of a normal life as possible.”

“With him? Right, no doubt he’s going to kill me.”

“You’re the last person on earth he wants to kill.”

“He’s got the wrong guy. Hasn’t he figured that out yet?” 

“He wouldn’t be so anxious to find you if he wasn’t sure you were his friend.”

“Well, I’m not sure,” said Bucky, pacing across the kitchen floor. 

“Look,” said Hillary, “you’re taking this the wrong way. Captain America isn’t a person. It’s a persona. And right now, the man behind it is Steve Rogers. He is a superhero, but he  
is also his own person. You once knew that better than anyone.”

“When was that?”

“The nineteen forties.”

“So it was too long ago for it to have mattered.”

“It always matters.” 

Bucky looked at the floor. 

“I know,” Hillary stammered, “that you...that there’s only so much my family and I can do to help you right now. And for the time being, you don’t know what’s going to happen to  
you. So we need you to be patient while we try to help you. We’ll figure it out.”

 

Jo Tanner awoke around one in the morning needing to go to the bathroom. When she was finished she lingered at the bathroom mirror to rub her sleepy eyes. And then she heard a sound. Very faint. Someone crying aloud.

The sound was coming from her son Cody’s room. She turned on the hall light and opened the door. 

On the bed, Bucky was thrashing in the sheets. He was talking to himself in what sounded like a foreign language. But between the strange words and the grunts of pain, there  
were words she could recognize. “No....don’t make me...please...blood...blood everywhere…”

Jo hugged her bathrobe tighter around herself. She crossed the bedroom floor in three steps and sat on the edge of the bed.  
“I won’t--do it--don’t…”

“Bucky,” Jo whispered. She wasn’t sure she wanted to wake him. But she leaned over him and caressed his dark hair. “Sweetie, it’s just a dream.”

He garbled something aloud. And then,

“Where are you? Where are you?”

“I’m right here.” Her fingers touched the side of his head. “I’m right here.”

He suddenly relaxed. But in the crack of light coming from the hallway she couldn’t tell if he were awake.

“Where’s ...where is...Steve?”

“You’d have to ask Hillary,” said Jo quietly, smiling.

He said something foreign again, and he rolled over.

She heard a new noise. Sobbing. 

“Steve.”

Jo stayed with him. “I’m sorry I’m not Steve,” she said, not knowing if he heard her. “Bucky, you’re going to be just fine. You’re safe. You’re home.”

Whatever happened to your mother? she wondered. Certainly she must have died, years and years ago, whoever she was. Did she know what had happened to her son? And would she have wanted Jo to comfort him when she could not? 

She slowly got off the bed. Bucky’s breathing had evened out. She went into the hallway and looked at him one more time before closing the door.

 

Hillary was eating breakfast at the counter the next morning when Bucky emerged from Cody’s room. He looked like he’d had a hard night. 

“How are you this morning?” Jo asked him. 

“I’m fine,” he said. 

He poured himself a bowl of cereal and sat down next to Hillary.

Trey came out of the bathroom dressed in his Sunday clothes. He, Jo and Hillary were making small talk when Bucky spoke up.

“What time is you guys’ church again?”

“Eleven o’clock.” They all looked at him. 

He glanced at the living room clock. It was nine-thirty.

“Okay, then. I’m coming with you.” 

“What?” said Hillary.

“Who are you and what happened to Bucky?” said Trey.

Bucky finished his breakfast quickly and then got in the shower. He came out clean-shaven, his hair combed and pulled back into a ponytail except for a few loose bangs, and  
wearing some of Trey’s extra church clothes, which were a little baggy on him. 

Hillary had gotten dressed and was snacking on some more toast before putting makeup on. She saw him come out of the bathroom. 

Jo was seated at the table, reading a church manual, but looked up when he entered and positively beamed at him.

“You look wonderful, dear,” she said to him.

“Thanks,” said Bucky. He patted Jo on the shoulder.

“You should dress up more often,” said Hillary.

“For what?” said Bucky, flinging one of Trey’s extra ties around his neck. “I don’t go anywhere.”

“Well, maybe you should find a reason to go out,” said Hillary. “I’m just saying.”

“Whatever.” He started fumbling with the tie.

Jo looked up and saw him struggling. “Here, let me help you with that.” She stood up and tied the borrow tie, cinching it up to the collar just enough. “There. You really do look handsome.”

Bucky gave her a smile that was slightly embarrassed.

“What he really needs is a haircut,” said Hillary.

“Naw, my hair’s just fine,” said Bucky, patting his ponytail.

“I could cut it for you, dear, if you want,” said Jo.

“No, thank you,” Bucky shook his head. He sat down at the table to pull on a pair of borrowed dress socks. “It took me seventy years to grow it out. I ain’t gonna cut it now.” 

“Well how come they never cut it for you?” asked Hillary.

Jo fell silent. 

Bucky frowned a little. “Considering the other terrible things they did to me while strapped to a chair, do you think I would have let them?”

“Oh...I guess I didn’t see it that way.” Hillary went to her bathroom to put on her makeup. 

At a quarter to eleven, the family got in Trey’s truck and went to church. They sat in one of the pews on the right-hand side of the chapel. Most people didn’t really acknowledge  
the visitor who was with the Tanners. Those who asked were given the name Jason Retniw, who worked at Trey’s garage. 

Bucky’s left hand was already in a glove, but he kept it in his pants pocket anyway.

“And this shirt is so thin,” he commented to Hillary, “that I’ll have to keep my jacket on for the whole three hours.”

“It’s not that sheer,” said Hillary. “Nobody will care.”

But there was no reasoning with him. The metal arm stayed hidden.

She shared a hymnbook with him during the opening service. At first she wasn’t sure that she could hear him singing at all. But when she leaned closer to him, she realized she  
could hear him, just faintly, singing in a sweet but very quiet tenor voice.

The intermediate hymn was, “How Great Thou Art.” She and Bucky stood together. Standing up is naturally a better position for singing, and she could hear his voice a little better.

When the meeting ended, she turned to him. “You didn’t tell me you could sing.”

He looked a little put-off. “I don’t sing,” he said.

“You did just now. You have a pretty voice. I’d like to hear it more often.”

“You do, it’s called talking.”

They went to Sunday School with her parents, and when the men and women separated for the final hour of meetings he followed Trey. They met up again in the foyer after it was over.

“Well, how was it?” asked Hillary.

“I behaved myself,” said Bucky.

“He was the model of reverence,” said Trey proudly. “Didn’t make a peep, did you, my boy?” He patted Trey on the back.

“Well, good for you,” said Hillary.

They went home. The Tanners were expecting all of the family over for Sunday dinner in a short while. Bucky helped Trey to pull open the table extensions while Hillary and her  
mother checked on the roast and got to work on the salad. 

“You know, Bucky, it’s been a while since I’ve had to do any heavy lifting without having you nearby to help out,” said Trey as they inserted the extra table leaves.

“You think?” 

“Well, how strong are you, actually?”

“Ha ha, well…” Bucky trailed off, trying to think of something. He caught Hillary’s eye. Then he looked back at Trey. “Actually, it would probably be better not to tell you.”

“Suit yourself.” 

Bucky didn’t stay in his borrowed church clothes that long. He changed into a pair of jeans, sneakers, and a red t-shirt. He was also wearing a long-sleeved undershirt, so that  
his metal arm was covered nicely, and with the glove over the hand you really couldn’t tell his left arm was any different from his right.

He and Trey pulled down the nice china and glasses from the top cupboard and then they set the table. Mike and Susan’s family arrived, with Susan bearing a side dish of cheesy mashed potatoes. Then Jon and Marie came. Marie had brought a jello salad. Tayson and Maddie joined their cousins in the living room, and Linsey and Maddie played with some dolls that Maddie had brought while Oliver played the piano. Greg and Julia came with dessert: a banana cream pie and a chocolate cream pie. Maddie and Linsey climbed up the couch to look at the fish tank, and Hillary had to go pull them away so they would stop tapping the glass.

They sat down to eat at a quarter to four. Jon blessed the food. Bucky sat between Hillary and Mike. Tayson sat at a high chair that Trey had gotten out of the garage, and he made an enormous mess of the mashed potatoes he was served. Maddie had to be hushed several times to be kept from singing a song she had learned at church that day.  
There was so much noise and talking and laughter. A part of him wanted to leave the table and go eat his dinner someplace quieter. But another part of him wanted to stay put while he ate and just soak in the sounds of a normal, happy family eating dinner together. And he was enjoying the fact that he could eat at the same table as them--so much good food, real food. Not nutrient infusions or force feeding, but real meat, real vegetables and fruit and then dessert to come afterward.

He almost felt like a part of it. But with a twinge of something like guilt he had to ask Hillary to pass him a napkin so he could wipe some of the grease off his glove. And he spent a few long seconds looking at the glove as he let it rest in his lap. Hillary nudged him back to attention and he continued eating. He could eat with this family, but he really wasn’t one of them, was he?

They certainly didn’t treat him any different. He helped put the food away after dinner with Hillary and Julia and Jo while Greg and Mike did the dishes. Jo asked him for help putting away some of the china on the top shelves of the cupboard after it had been washed. Even when Trey worked with him at the garage during the week, he didn’t look down on him or treat him like his responsibilities were any different from the other employees’. When he went with Benny or Adam or TJ on the other weekends, he kept his distance from them. But Trey’s family drew him in, invited him to eat with them, talk with them, work with them. And he went along with it because it gave him something to do, something to keep his mind occupied...

Well, perhaps the best way to protect him was to pretend he was one of them. But it came so naturally to the Tanners. They had to go considerably out of their way to accommodate him, and yet they acted like it was all normal. As far as his metal arm was concerned, Jo and Trey had developed a blind spot, and as long as he kept it covered when the extended family was around no one knew any different.

That was the goal, wasn’t it? To act like no one could tell the difference, whether he was there or not.

Even Hillary, as rarely as she was home, frequently asked after his welfare. Well, maybe she was trying to make sure he didn’t ruin her life even further. He was simply an annoyance to her. And he remembered how she cringed every time she accidentally touched his left hand, even when it was covered. 

Jon and Marie went home after dinner had been cleaned up, but Mike and Susan stayed over a little longer. Hillary amused herself playing the piano with Oliver. Linsey wanted to play on the piano with them, and Hillary hoisted her up on her lap. Linsey would be starting her own piano lessons in the fall, but Hillary didn’t mind helping her get a head start.  
She knew Bucky was on the couch listening to her parents and siblings talk. But then she saw him move up next to the piano and lean on it. 

“Do you mind if I watch?” he said. 

“Were you falling asleep back there?” she asked him.

“Kind of hard with all this racket you guys are making,” said Bucky.

Hillary laughed. “Dad told me you can sleep through anything at the garage.”

He gave a weak chuckle. “Kind of wish I could.”

Hillary was teaching Oliver and Linsey hymns out of one of the small green hymnbooks, which didn’t stay open very well on the piano. While she was playing “All Creatures of our  
God and King,” the page popped out. She reached up to grab it but Bucky had already taken the page. He turned it for her. “Was it on this side?”

“Yes, it was,” said Hillary. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem.” He leaned on the top of the piano with his arms folded and watched Hillary. 

Linsey experimented with playing a few notes of the hymn with her fingers on top of Hillary’s. Then she looked up at Bucky. “Look, Bucky, I can play piano!” she said, smiling  
widely at him.

“That’s great,” he said. He gave her a little nod.

Then Linsey turned around. “Mommy, I can play the piano!” she yelled across the living room to her mother.

Susan looked up at her. “You’re sounding wonderful, dear!” said Susan. She went back to talking to Jo and Julia.

Hillary turned the page. Linsey reached up to help her. “Careful, honey,” said Hillary.

“Hillary, how long did it take you to get good at the piano?” Oliver asked her.

“Oh, years and years,” said Hillary. “Let’s see, I think I started piano lessons when I was in the third grade. So I was a little older than you.”

“But now you’re a lot older than me,” said Oliver.

Hillary laughed. She saw Bucky shaking in silent mirth as he looked down at them.

“How old is Bucky, Hillary?” asked Linsey.

“Well, he’s older than me,” said Hillary. “Lots older.” 

“How old are you, Bucky?” Oliver asked him. 

“Hm, let me see,” said Bucky, scratching his chin. “How old should I be, Hillary?”

“Twenty-eight,” said Hillary. “That’s the age I put on your ID.”

“Okay, then, I’m twenty-eight.”

Hillary turned the pages to a different hymn and started playing. She knew this hymn so well that she didn’t have to watch the keys or the notes as she played. She looked up at  
Bucky. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted him to be watching her while she played for the children. 

Come to think of it, she wasn’t sure she wanted him in her house--in her life--period. He just made her life a hassle. True, it was easier not to worry about him when she was  
out in the field. But she still worried about him. Every time Coulson asked her how her family was doing she felt guilty. Every time the Avengers or Captain America were discussed, she couldn’t help thinking about the fact that her family was hiding something from Steve--that she was hiding something from Steve. And she hated it. Every time she and Mitch went over the incoming reports from the field, she dreaded finding something from Mesa, Arizona. Whenever Coulson said he wanted to talk to her about something, she felt a little nervous. 

She looked down at the piano. She was being selfish, she realized. She was just worrying about getting caught. 

“Bucky,” Jo called from across the living room. “Before I forget, do you want to dish up some leftovers from dinner to take with you to the garage this week?”

“Yeah, that sounds great,” said Bucky. “I actually really liked your dinner this week.”

“Well, you must be doing something right, dear, if he likes your cooking,” said Trey, nudging his wife.

Jo laughed. 

“We can take care of it later,” said Bucky. 

“Whenever you like, dear.” 

Hillary had stopped playing so they could talk. But when she resumed playing, she heard several discordant notes. She realized that at least a few of them were her own, but  
Linsey was also playing with the keys higher up on the board and Oliver was trying to play the second hand with her. 

“Ollie, Linsey, it’s time to go,” said Susan. Mike helped his pregnant wife to her feet while Linsey and Oliver scrambled off the piano bench. Hillary thought she might as well follow and swung her legs around to get up. 

“Are you going back to work for S.H.I.E.L.D. this week?” asked Linsey.

“Yes I am,” said Hillary. “I go to work for them every week. I have to be at the airport first thing tomorrow morning to fly on an airplane to...well, it’s someplace different every  
week. I don’t know where I’m going this week yet.”

“Will you bring me back a present?” asked Linsey.

“Yes, I will,” said Hillary. “What would you like?”

“I would like a snowman.”

“But you already have a snowman,” said Hillary.

“No, that’s Olaf. I want a different snowman!” 

“Okay then. If I go someplace very cold, I will bring you back a snowman from there. Deal?”

“Yes,” said Linsey as her auntie hugged her goodbye and kissed her cheek.

“I want an airplane,” said Oliver. “A model one, like the kind the Avengers fly.”

“Really?” asked Hillary. “Okay, then. I’ll see what I can do.” She hugged Oliver.

“Are you a spy, Hillary?” asked Oliver.

“Well...I am sort of,” she said, shrugging. “I’m more of a jack-of-all-trades secret agent. I’m the personal assistant to Director Phil Coulson, so I get to help him do stuff.”

“And what do you guys do?”

“We get to protect the world,” said Hillary. “From scary monsters and bad people who want to hurt you and from aliens.” She tickled Oliver.

She got up and hugged her brother and her sister-in-law, affectionately patting Susan’s baby bump as she did so.

“Have we decided on a first name yet?”

“We’re still working on it,” said Susan.

“We’re open to suggestions,” said Mike.

“Har har. I’ll let you know if I think of any.” 

Mike and Susan both nodded at Bucky, who was still standing in the corner, leaning on the piano.

“We’ll see you later,” Mike said to him.

“Take care,” Bucky answered. 

Mike and his family left, and after that so did Greg and Julia. Trey and Jo both went down for a nap. Hillary spent some time on the computer while Bucky laid down on the  
couch--whether or not he was napping she couldn’t tell. She could see he was watching the fish in the fishtank swimming back and forth peacefully from his reclined position on the couch. Certainly that would put him to sleep. 

When her parents got up, Hillary and her mother went out to visit some of their friends in the neighborhood. They came back around five, after their dinner had digested. 

Trey was sitting on the armchair, reading a book.

“Where’s Bucky?” Hillary asked. 

“Bucky decided to curl up for a nap in Cody’s room,” said Trey, turning a page of his book.

“Really? He looked just fine on the couch,” said Jo.

Jo pulled up one of the dining chairs next to the armchair. She and Trey sat and talked, holding hands as they did so.

Hillary went out to the backyard, quietly opening and closing the screen door as she passed through. She sat on an old, beaten chair and surveyed the backyard. Everything was 

still dead and brown, and would be for the next two months, at least. With dead leaves scattered over the lawn and the trampoline, it had an abandoned feeling.

She remembered her train of thought from earlier in the afternoon. On the one hand, she hated having Bucky around. She hated having to cover up for him to S.H.I.E.L.D.. She  
hated the fact that she and her family had taken him in when he could have just left and been one less thing to worry about. But mostly she hated the fact that he refused to contact Steve Rogers. There was no reason he shouldn’t, and yet Bucky stubbornly insisted that he wanted nothing to do with the one person who really knew him--the best  
friend who deserved him. Not Hillary. Not her family. Steve. 

But on the other hand, she continued to act at work like there wasn’t anyone important staying with her family. It pained her so much, knowing that she could end the heartache that Steve Rogers had suffered for so long, and end the manhunt that S.H.I.E.L.D. was wasting its resources on, just by telling her boss and her friends the truth. And yet she didn’t. The excuse that she gave herself, that her dad had insisted and Bucky had made her promise, no longer held up for her. 

Why did she want to hide Bucky from the people who could help him? Was it really just about saving her own skin? Or was she doing it for a less selfish reason, if she even had one?

Did she like having him in her family? did she want him to be part of her life? It seemed like the rest of her family did. Her parents especially. But that’s what her parents did: anyone who came into their house was treated like family. The Winter Soldier was no exception, even though he should have been.

Her father just wanted Bucky to have a better life. Did she want that for him, too? Was it really better for him to have a roof over his head and proper food to eat instead of having to live off whatever scraps he could find while battling the elements?

It seemed like a no-brainer. Yet he was the one person for whom there might have been a reasonable exception.

Would she have done this for anyone else, for any other hobo off the street? She realized it didn’t matter. The point was, she was helping someone. 

Yet she felt bad that all this time she was doing it grudgingly. She resented him so much for the emotional toll that hiding him was taking on her. It had only been a month since she had set out to work for Coulson, and yet it felt like ages. Did she have a real reason to be helping Bucky? Did she have any genuine feelings of friendship or kindness for him to motivate her actions?

She really felt so bitterly towards him that she wanted to doubt what she was doing. And if there was one thing she hated worse than lying to S.H.I.E.L.D., it was being a hypocrite towards Bucky. He was someone who deserved her honest respect, after Hydra had lied to him and about him for seventy years.

She reflected on her interactions with him since coming home last night. He had expressed at least some of his concerns about Grace with her. She had given him advice on the subject, and done it willingly. True, she had lectured him a little, and snuck in a rebuke about his attitude towards Steve. But she had done it out of concern for him. She actually wanted him to be happy.

So maybe she did feel some kindness towards him. Maybe just a little. But that little realization made Hillary’s burden feel a lot lighter. 

But why me? Hillary asked herself. Why was this happening in her life now? Her life could have been so much easier if Bucky wasn’t in it. 

Well, so would a lot of people’s lives, she realized. S.H.I.E.L.D. had always assumed that the Winter Soldier was a ghost story, a bogey, a mindless killer. But when Steve Rogers had pulled off the mask, and revealed that Hydra’s assassin had a name and an identity, it had become less about hunting him down to kill him and more about trying to find him and help him, especially since Coulson wanted to help Captain Rogers find his friend. 

But if Bucky didn’t want anyone to find him, then what were Hillary and her family to do?

She heard the screen door opening behind her. It was her father.

“What’re you up to, Hillary?”

“Not much,” Hillary shook her head. “Just taking some fresh air and thinking.”

“That sounds fine. Mind if I join you?”

“Sure.”

Her father came out on the back porch and surveyed the backyard with her. Trey told her about his planned gardening for the coming spring and the similar efforts of some of  
their neighbors. They ended up talking about church and about Trey’s work at the garage. It was such a relief to be talking with her own father about something normal.

After a while, they finally went back inside. Jo was on the computer while Bucky was sitting at the table--he’d taken the glove off his left hand. 

Hillary finally changed out of her church clothes and undid her hair. She came back to the dining room and suggested to Bucky that they play Speed. Then Trey suggested that they all play Uno together. It wasn’t a difficult game to learn, Trey said. Bucky had to agree with him after they had played two rounds together. 

“Yeah, I guess it’s easy to play this game--and also easy to get mad at the people you’re playing with.” 

“Hey, a Draw Four Wild isn’t personal,” said Hillary.

“Neither is this,” said Bucky. Her father had just reversed the direction of play. Bucky laid down a Skip card on Hillary.

“Well, how do I know that you didn’t enjoy that?” said Hillary.

Trey finally put the cards away and went to make a phone call to one of his relatives. Jo went to the kitchen.

“So do you like staying with us?” Hillary asked him.

“I do, actually,” said Bucky. “I’m probably just--what’s the word--biased?”

“Biased.”

“Yeah, biased since you guys were the ones who took me in.” He idly drummed his fingers on the table. “Really, though, it’s just not the same anywhere else. I don’t know the  
other people as well. Adam Blake, him and his family does their thing, and I do mine. I keep my distance. Same with TJ’s family. Benny and Pablo and company, they don’t mind me tagging along. But it’s like I’m not really there.”

He stared down at the table in kind of a sad sort of way. 

Hillary wasn’t sure if she wanted to say something encouraging or do something to comfort him. He didn’t look like he would refuse it. 

She glanced off to one side, reliving the games of Uno they had just played. She sighed a little when she remembered other times she had played Uno.

“What?” asked Bucky.

“It’s just...something about Steve Rogers, you wouldn’t want to hear it.”

“Oh, no, I’m sure it’s interesting.”

“Well, it’s just that...when I went to S.H.I.E.L.D. school, Steve and I were in the same group of friends. We’d get together on Sunday nights to hang out and play games. Steve got the hang of Uno early on. It was fun.” She looked at Bucky. “I kind of wish he was here now, playing with us.”

“Well, not that I want him to or anything, but where is he these days, besides looking for me?”

“Well, he’s actually not looking for you at all right now,” said Hillary. “He’s out with the Avengers, trying to take on the remnants of Hydra. It’s his friend Sam Wilson who’s leading the search for you these days--though I think he’s not making much headway.”

“I’m still here, so I guess not. But who is this Wilson guy?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t met him, actually. He used to be in the Air Force. He had a winged jetpack--they call him the Falcon. You heard of him?”

“A winged jetpack,” Bucky mused, rubbing his chin. “Did I try to kill him once?”

Hillary groaned. “If that’s the only way you relate to people, then you’ve got a long way to go.” 

“I know, I know.”

“But that’s why you should meet these people and get to know them.”

“I’m not going to if I don’t want to.” 

“You’re so stubborn.”

“And you’re so...dead-set...stubborn... you’re stubborn, too.” 

Mudder the cat appeared in the sliding glass door, looking like he wanted to be let in. Hillary saw him meowing and got up.

“Time to bring you in, kitty. I guess you’re probably hungry.”

Mudder leaped inside but then stopped beside the water tank. Hillary picked him up and drooped him over her shoulder for a hug and rubbed his thick fur. He was purring. 

“How’s my kitty doing? Hm? It’s been such a long time since I got to see you.”

Mudder wriggled a little bit and Hillary dropped him, then brushed the excess cat hair from off her shirt. 

“I can feed him,” said Bucky, following Mudder into the utility room. Mudder looked up at him and meowed. “Just a minute, kitty.” Bucky poured some cat food into the feed dish.  
Mudder started munching on it noisily.

“It’s good to have a cat,” said Hillary. “I like having a cat.”

“Well, I can’t say I’ve met too many cats that I’ve liked,” said Bucky as they watched Mudder eating. “But Mudder I think takes the cake.”

“Met any dogs that you liked?”

“Not at all. They get a whiff of the Winter Soldier and they start barking like crazy. Especially the smaller ones.”

“Yeah, small dogs are annoying,” said Hillary.

The two of them went back to the kitchen. Hillary was feeling a little hungry. She opened the cupboard and saw a box of her mother’s homemade cookies on a shelf.

“Want a cookie?” she asked.

“Sure.”

Hillary took out the box and popped the lid. They each reached in and grabbed one.

Bucky sat on the counter to eat his cookie while Hillary put the box away.

“But tell me,” Bucky said when he had finished eating, “just how close were you and Steve Rogers anyway?”

“We weren’t really that close,” said Hillary. “We hung out a few times, in DC. We went on a mission together about a month before S.H.I.E.L.D. fell. But I wouldn’t really say we  
were close. We’re friends on Facebook, if that counts for anything--though, since he joined back up with the Avengers he hasn’t been on there as much.”

“Understandable, I suppose, though I’m not on Facebook.”

“All I know is that Steve cares about you very much,” said Hillary. Bucky looked at her. “He posted a lot on the internet, at first, when he started to search for you. He really wants  
to find you.”

“And do what with me?”

Hillary had to find the right words. “Help you to find a better life.”

“Knowing Steve Rogers hasn’t led me to a better life,” said Bucky irritably. “It just made things worse--it made Hydra treat me worse. And they’ll hurt me again, if Steve ever finds  
me.”

“Steve will never allow that to happen,” said Hillary. 

Mudder came out of the utility room, having eaten his fill. 

“Hey there, kitty cat,” said Hillary, looking down at him. “Have you had enough to eat now?” 

Mudder rubbed Hillary’s legs a little. She bent down to pet him, but then he slipped away from her, and he jumped onto the counter next to Bucky.

“Whoa, I guess the cat wants to thank me for feeding him. Hey there, big guy.” Bucky stroked Mudder affectionately behind the ears. Mudder started purring loudly and arching his back to get petted. Bucky had lifted up his metal hand a little while Mudder climbed onto his lap. Mudder leaned forward and licked the fingertips a little. 

“So why’s he called Mudder?” Bucky asked.

“Well, one dark and rainy night, when he was a kitten, we found him outside in the backyard, cold and wet and covered with mud.”

“Oh really? So he’s a stray, just like me?”

“Yeah. I guess he is.” Hillary wondered why that hadn’t occurred to her before.

“So I think he knows the feeling.” Bucky rubbed and petted the cat, who reveled in the attention. Then Mudder lept down and went into the living room. He sat himself down on  
the couch and licked himself. Jo had gone into her bedroom. They were alone.

“Do you mind me asking you a personal question?” asked Hillary.

“Depends on the question.”

“How did you meet Grace?”

“In the homeless shelter in Denver. Where do you think?”

“Well, was there any particular way she noticed you? That’s more what I meant.”

“I think she was working in the food line,” said Bucky. “She volunteered at the homeless shelter.”

“She’s a volunteer? Oh, so not a -- “

“Not a vagrant, no. And she’s got a life--working on her master’s degree, got a nice apartment somewhere in Denver, she’s young, she’s smart, she’s attractive--she’s everything  
I’m not.”

“I’d beg to differ with you on the attractive part.”

“Shut up.”

“So anyway, Grace worked at the homeless shelter?”

“Yes, and then she noticed me in the food line. So she came over to say hi to me after dinner, and we got to talking--well, she did most of the talking. But she just paid me a lot  
of attention over the next few weeks. I never really opened up with her, but she liked being with me. So I let her.” 

“Did she ever ask you--?”

“I never said anything to her,” said Bucky. “She did ask me, often. I almost wish I had now, though. But that wouldn’t have made things easier. But I was--a lot more evasive, a  
few months ago. I didn’t really have anybody I could talk to.”

“But you don’t really talk about yourself that much.”

“No, not really. But it’s having people around that you can trust--that’s what helps.”

“So you met at a homeless shelter. Well, it’s not exactly romantic,” said Hillary. “But I guess you can’t choose where you meet the person you fall for.”

“Your dad told me about how Greg and Julia met--she’d run errands over to his store for your dad sometimes,” Bucky smiled, “and then Greg had to work up the courage to talk  
to her and ask her out.”

“Yes, he did,” said Hillary. “But Julia had already noticed him--she’d come home from work and tell me about her day, and I’d ask her if that cute guy at the auto parts store had  
asked her out yet.” Hillary then told Bucky the story of how her oldest brother Mike had met his wife Susan while they were both attending ASU, and how their first date had been to a Sun Devils football game. For Jon and Marie there wasn’t much to tell, since they had known each other in high school and dated off and on until they got married. 

Bucky slid off the counter and leaned against it while Hillary talked. 

“So when do you have to be back at S.H.I.E.L.D.?” Bucky asked her.

“I’m flying out first thing tomorrow morning,” said Hillary. “But I don’t know to where yet. Coulson hasn’t texted me with the flight information yet. He’s probably busy relaxing  
for the weekend. Gosh, how is it already almost eight o’clock?” she said, looking up at the kitchen clock.

“So what are you doing with S.H.I.E.L.D. these days?”

“Mostly working hard to stop Hydra,” said Hillary. “Since Coulson became the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. last fall, he’s been trying to weed out the last Hydra sleepers. We’re also  
watching for signs of activity from them or from other suspicious parties.” She gave Bucky an awkward-half smile: it didn’t need saying that they were looking out for the Winter Soldier.

“Have I told you about Mitch?”

“Mitch, who’s that?”

“I guess you could say he’s my partner at S.H.I.E.L.D.,” said Hillary. “He could also be my trainee, since he’s new. Coulson hired him last fall and decided let him work with us. But  
he’s really kind of annoying.” 

“Annoying? Like me?”

“Hm, more like he has a different set of problems. He’s from a similar background, quote on quote, so Coulson thinks we’d work well together, right? He’s got a completely  
different brain. He studied Political Science at the University of Utah--great mind for thinking about the big picture problems, but he has no talent for finding the fine details in an  
investigation.”

“I see.”

Hillary told Bucky more about her travels in recent weeks with Coulson and with Mitch, describing how Mitch was also clumsy and annoying to travel with. Bucky seemed very interested in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s findings about what Hydra had been up to recently, which was mostly still trying to infiltrate S.H.I.E.L.D. from the inside.

“But hopefully soon,” said Hillary, “we’ll be going up to Minneapolis to investigate a mall shooting that happened there.”

“A mall shooting?”

“Yeah. Last October. Bunch of armed thugs walked into a food court in the middle of lunch hour and started shooting everyone, and for no reason. But we think Hydra was behind  
it.”

“Okay.” Bucky nodded. “Did anybody die?”

“Nobody was killed in the attack, but there were a lot of injuries.”

“Well, that’s awful. I hope S.H.I.E.L.D. finds out who was responsible for that.” 

Hillary had seen the evidence from S.H.I.E.L.D.’s findings so far that the ex-Winter Soldier was implicated. But she didn’t want to ask Bucky--there were other issues at stake on  
the Minneapolis case. She rubbed her head: she hadn’t thought about it for a while. 

“Well, all of that sounds like fun,” said Bucky. “Investigating Hydra, reorganizing S.H.I.E.L.D. from the top down and making sure you can keep the world a safe place--it keeps you busy, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah. But it’s fun.”

“You make it look easy,” said Bucky, shaking his head.

“What, you wanna trade?”

“No,” Bucky snorted. “It’s so hard to be a normal person. Trust me, I’m pretending to be one.”

“I don’t think I’m normal,” said Hillary. “When you work for S.H.I.E.L.D., you interact with superheroes and aliens on an everyday basis sometimes. You get paid to stop evil masterminds from hurting people. You hear about problems that people have that they shouldn’t have--problems that exist because of the corrupt use of science, or because of weird supernatural stuff going on. And you get to save the world. It’s a lot of hard work, but I wouldn’t call it normal.”

They stood on opposite sides of the kitchen with their arms folded. 

He noticed she was looking at him strangely.

“What?” Bucky asked.

“What am I going to do with you?”

“Do you need to do something with me?”

“A part of me still wants to get rid of you. But that’s just me being brutally honest. You don’t have to take it the wrong way.”

He shifted a little. “Well, what about the other part of you?”

“Well...the other part of me...I’ve gotten used to you. In fact I kind of like having you around. You're...fun to be with. Even when you're not trying.”

“Really?” he answered quietly.

She didn’t say anything.

“That’s surprising. But if you still need me to go, I can leave. There’s nothing keeping me here.”

His eyes darted from the floor to her face, a faint smile teasing his lips.

“No. You can just stay where you’re at. It’s just...I want to say how I feel … I just thought I could ignore you, you know, while I was away. But I’ve come to find out that I can’t. I  
don’t want to. You’re just...a good guy to be with. I mean I don’t...like you or anything, I just--”

“I get it, I get it,” he said, shrugging her off. He turned around to look at the counter. Then he faced Hillary again. “But, let me get one thing straight, though. Why is it you’re  
doing this for me?”

“That’s not an easy question to answer,” said Hillary. “When I first saw you, I just wanted to call in to S.H.I.E.L.D. and say that I’d found you. I was going to text Steve Rogers and give him the best early Christmas present ever. Then when Dad said he wanted to give you a place to stay, I said I’d do it because he asked me to. But now I’m doing it for you. Because you need the help.” 

Bucky scrutinized her as she mentioned S.H.I.E.L.D.. At the mention of Steve Rogers his face betrayed annoyance. But then he looked at her in surprise.

“Well, if there’s any one person on earth who didn’t want to help me, I would have thought it was you,” said Bucky.

“I know,” said Hillary. “But I can change my mind, can’t I?”

“Well, I’m really the last person on earth you should be getting attached to. You’re just hoping I’m going to change my mind about Captain America, aren’t I?”

“I’m sticking it out. And I’m hoping there’s some other things you can change your mind about, too. But it’s just crazy to think, you know, a year ago you were cyrogenically  
frozen someplace and I didn’t even know you existed. And now we’re here, talking in the kitchen, having a casual chat about girlfriends and work and things. I like seeing that side of you.” 

“Really? Well, you shouldn’t get used to it. It could always go away.”

“I don’t think so,” said Hillary. “You’ve always had it in you. And I don’t want you to forget that part of yourself again. Not even if Hydra makes you.”

Bucky smiled at her. She smiled back. They met halfway across the kitchen floor and embraced. He was a very good hugger. His metal arm was a little stiff but he was very  
warm.

They both sat on the counter afterward, talking quietly for a little while.

“You know what, Bucky,” said Hillary, “I’m going to text you during the week, to make sure you’re okay. And you can text me back if you like. I might not read it right away, if  
S.H.I.E.L.D.’s keeping me busy, but I’ll get around to it. Would you like that?”

“Yes, I would,” said Bucky. “But I believe that the tracphone your parents gave me has a limited number of texts.”

“The tracphone was only so we could get a hold of you in case of emergencies. I’ll text you through Dad’s phone. Or mom’s.”

“Okay. I don’t actually know how to text very well, I don’t think,” said Bucky. “Do you mind showing me?”

“Not at all,” said Hillary. She pulled out her smartphone and started showing him how to text, including defining some abbreviations for him and teaching him how to make  
emoticoms. 

Coulson texted her not half an hour later, when she was still in the kitchen talking to Bucky. Her flight the next morning was at eight a.m. to Des Moines, Iowa.  
She went to bed that night still feeling a little surprised that she’d admitted anything to him, much less to herself.

Her mother drove her to the airport the next morning at six. Bucky got up to say farewell to her. 

And when she stepped out the door, she realized something. He was her mission, now. If Bucky wouldn’t let anyone else get near him, then Hillary Tanner would be the one to help him. 

Thinking of that broke her heart, though. She couldn’t be as much help to him from a distance, not when S.H.I.E.L.D. was dragging her all over the country and, at times, the world. Texting him occasionally would only do so much. 

But then she remembered that that was why her family was helping him. They would look after him and see to his needs. Her mother and father would be there to talk to him, if he had problems. 

It was really surprising, how he had come into her life and then so easily become a part of it. She had often heard that the things in life never work out the way we expect them to, and in the end the way things play out is the better outcome. She had to trust in that.


End file.
